


b-sides

by fated_addiction



Category: K-pop, Real Person Fiction, Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25207882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fated_addiction/pseuds/fated_addiction
Summary: “Atattoo?”Or, Wendy is in between schedules right now.
Relationships: Bae Joohyun | Irene/Son Seungwan | Wendy
Comments: 1
Kudos: 75





	b-sides

-

“a _tattoo_?”

yeri has the audacity to look guilty. wendy is still not over the fact that she is sweating through saran wrap and that her wrist feels like someone dug a wooden pencil into her skin.

“it was a bonding experience,” she says dryly. and irene narrows her eyes. they both know that yeri has this finite ability to basically convince all of them do anything. in fact, she could probably convince the devil himself to do something and none of them would be surprised.

“idiots,” irene mutters.

it’s half-hearted. they all know. irene is tired and sore. seulgi has already disappeared into the shower. they've only been back from their schedule for twenty minutes and wendy can’t honestly remember who exposed who.

the truth doesn’t matter. neither does the fact that she finally found the balls to go get a tattoo. yeri, after all, is halfway into her third or fourth one as it is. and wendy really only had the internet talking back to her with ‘it’s going to hurt, duh’ and ‘here’s a thousand pintrest options for when you decide to panic pick’ because why not panic pick your first tattoo.

but yeri tackles irene. “it was taeyeon unnie’s friend,” she says. “take a deep breath – i wouldn’t take unnie to an unreliable place.”

wendy watches thirty different emotions change of irene’s face. bites back a smile and nudges yeri back. you’re not helping, she mouths. go to bed.

yeri glares and escapes. irene's turned away and she’s muttering to herself. her pain tolerance is projecting. it's cute, wendy thinks. then hates that she thinks it’s cute. nothing about irene has been cute. 

she shakes her head. she waits though. waits until she hears the door to yeri’s bedroom open and shut. waits until she hears the bathroom door open and shut and the sound of seulgi disappearing into her bedroom too.

they're quiet. and it’s awkward.

it actually takes wendy more than a minute to realize that it’s been awkward. or they’ve been awkward all this time. they haven’t actually talked. like really _really_ talked. in fact, she remembers the last time they had a serious conversation: i'm sorry, irene had said. this is my fault, she had said too. and wendy can’t remember the last time she’s ever been that angry with something. not that it was anyone’s fault. but it was just easier to be angry at something.

“can i see it?”

wendy blinks. “what?”

“can i see it,” irene repeats. it’s already been plenty of time as it is; yeri took them shopping. there was dinner and then they picked up joy at the company.

“i have to clean it,” wendy murmurs.

irene shrugs and it feels like an invitation. they both move to the kitchen sink. wendy starts on her coverings, but irene grabs her by the wrist. then realizes that she grabbed her wrist, flinching.

wendy chokes on her laugh. see, she thinks. cute. “it’s just sore,” she offers.

“did it hurt?”

it’s a stupid question, but wendy shrugs. “no more than i expected. yeri went first – i waited and went on a downward spiral on google about pain tolerance levels.”

“you’re nuts.”

irene peels off the plastic, then the bandage and wendy’s skin feels a little taunt, prickled as irene elbows the faucet and pulls her hand under lukewarm water. there are directions in her bag, she wants to say, but instead watches irene as her eyes scan the tattoo printed against the wrist.

“coordinates.”

“what?” irene looks confused.

“they’re coordinates,” wendy repeats. “yeri wouldn’t let me get a music note. said it was a copout. said a music note could be tattoo number three.”

“ _three_?’

wendy laughs. “i'm teasing.”

irene only makes a noncommittal sound from the back of her throat. her fingers are still careful. gingerly tracing the numbers pressed into her skin. first it’s her thumb. then her index and middle fingers. wendy can almost feel the bumps of skin scarring over. longitude and latitude, she thinks. clean, crisp, to the point.

“where do they go,” irene asks and wendy is definitely closed to embarrassment. she no longer feels the water. the other girl is closer now too. occupies air that shouldn’t be new but feels new nonetheless.

“home,” she answers simply. tries to look away. but ends up watching her words sprawl across irene’s face in recognition. 

home is a lot of things. they could google the coordinates and wendy could explain which home it is: canada, her parents, the very first apartment they all lived together as trainees and then the very next one, the one were there was a second debut. she could say it and her mouth does open, but irene’s fingers still over her wrist. she gives her hand a little tug and wendy feels her heart begin to race.

it's weird, you know. not quite a confession. confessions mean that it’s something new. that she is just realizing how much she really would like to kiss irene right now. in the kitchen, with the water still running over her wrist and irene’s hand. the truth is something like they’ve been here before, will be here again, and none says these feelings have to be by the book or linear, a beginning and an end.

so say instead of saying it, instead of giving words a life and a meaning, wendy does lean forward and presses an open mouthed kiss against irene’s mouth. feels her sigh into her lips. maybe even kissing her back. 

one of them exhales and then it’s irene opening her mouth back, her teeth gnawing at the jut of wendy’s lip. biting to tasting. wendy feels her body turn and her hips hit the counter in front of the skin, irene’s free hand dragging down to her hip. she presses her fingers into the skin, just under her shirt, and wendy can’t help but think what would you do if I put a tattoo there too –

it’s nothing to say out loud but irene is kissing her and she’s kissing her back. shoves her tongue into her mouth, pressing it over hers. tastes coffee and something much sweeter. maybe even wine. who knows anymore. it's just that this isn’t a first kiss, or a last one, and her head swims with way too many things.

irene sighs into breaking away. her eyes are closed; wendy’s are open. watching as her teeth gnaw at her lip. 

“i like the tattoo,” irene murmurs. maybe she means it. something passes in her expression and there’s meaning in that too. “it suits you.”

her fingers drift from out underneath her t-shirt. there's too much heat in wendy’s belly and she may hate that a little too.

wendy forces herself to respond. “maybe you should come next time.”

“sure,” irene says.

it doesn’t matter who goes to bed first. or if it’s wendy who stays in the kitchen. trying to remember if she was the one who turned off the faucet first. or if she’s kissed irene like this, just like this before. it’s her head though, that’s spinning. and it’s her wrist that feels a little too sore. remember, she tells herself. ointment in the bag. directions on your phone.

you see, they really never talk about these things either.

**Author's Note:**

> I have all these little unfinished drabbles sitting on my phone right now, lol. So I'm dusting them off.


End file.
